Confidence
by difficile
Summary: Profound respect comes in the weirdest ways. Slight Balthier/Vaan.


* * *

**Confidence**

**(o65: Moment in Time)**

* * *

Vaan aims with the wary eye of any newcomer to the world of firearms, and Balthier notes this with quiet amusement as they hunt together on Giza Plains. He coaches the younger with side-glances and miniscule expressions he is sure Vaan doesn't notice, until he slowly starts to see the vague improvements arrive into view. The commoner of Rabanastre soon stands with an autonomous demeanor about him while he aims after a myriad of failed shots, and Balthier takes in the irony of the situation as he finds himself overwhelmed with a feeling of nostalgia. In the firm hands of Vaan, the unsure, scanning eyes, the sky pirate sees a bit of himself in the blonde, if only for a moment before the foreign feeling ebbs away like the weathering topsoil of Jahara.

Vaan takes a shot at a passing Giza hare and grunts in surprise asf the firearm jolts him backwards, firm stance lost as the gun once again takes him off guard. Balthier turns minutely to the side to hide the grin on his features before turning back to Vaan.

"Hold your feet steady, will you? A gun isn't a dagger, Vaan. You cannot shift from foot to foot when holding the Altair," the sky pirate instructs with a dignified point, and Vaan's ears turn warm from his indirect chastisement.

"Let me show you how it's done," Balthier continues, and Vaan straightens his posture slightly, knowing that line all too well. Placing his own weapon down in the dried soil of Giza, Balthier positions himself behind Vaan and grips his forearms.

"Have you even held one of these before today, Vaan?" Balthier asks as he rearranges Vaan's arms into a proper shooting position. He hears the hitch of the other's breath at the touch.

Another grin.

Balthier listens to the offhanded reply – "_nah_" – that only Vaan can pull off in front of his presence without the sky pirate getting annoyed. So lackadaisical. So_ Vaan_.

"What makes you want to?"

"What makes _you _so curious?"

A retort.

Another grin.

The question does not even need to be asked. Words seem redundant at that moment. Vaan wants to learn and dammit, he'll _learn_.

Without any further questioning Balthier places Vaan's finger by the trigger while he positions the other hand to hold the forestock.

"Grip it," Balthier orders, and Vaan doesn't need to be told twice. A lone Humbaba several meters away marches along the plains and Vaan's finger instinctively goes to the trigger.

"Hold," Balthier orders, so short and sweet that Vaan has no choice but to freeze.

Silence follows - for too long of a time. Vaan lets out an exasperated sigh, vexed.

"What _now_?"

"Vaan, where is your eye."

It isn't even a question – more of a statement, another chastising comment that makes Vaan's mouth twitch and his ears pinken more as he realizes his fault. Fish-mouthing for a minute, Vaan grumbles under his breath.

"Care to answer?" Balthier prods, crossing his arms.

"…On the head of the fiend."

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?"

"Exactly _why_," Balthier corrects, and he reaches around to cup Vaan's chin and force it down lower. "Look through your sight. That's why it's there," the russet-haired man says, lips barely brushing against the shell of Vaan's ear.

It is easy to tell Vaan is one not meant for firearms. Every single solitary movement and position counts, determines a hit or miss, fight or flee. Balthier has observed Vaan in battle many times; the boy is skilled with up-close-and-personal combat, he has gathered – things such as trusty daggers and shortswords.

Vaan's fighting is a dance of fury.

Firearms are steady and stoic, meant for one who can stand still.

Just like Balthier can never slash at a fiend with the proximity and ferocity Vaan can, (and the sky pirate admits this silently with no trouble, for self-denial is not something a leading man embraces) Balthier assumes vice versa for Vaan – the styles are completely different.

With silence Balthier backs from Vaan and watches as the dogged teen shifts his position and slumps over slightly as he aims again.

"_Hold_," he calls, and Vaan groans again, dropping his stature altogether and turning to Balthier with narrowed eyes.

"I didn't do anything!"

"_Au contraire_," Balthier replies, rubbing his temples and approaching Vaan again. He places a hand on Vaan's tanned shoulder, and the sky pirate inquires,

"Are you confident?"

A dazed blink is his answer. It is Balthier's turn to glare at the pause.

"_Are you confident_?" he asks again.

The answer comes too quick, too nonchalant for the fastidious sky pirate's taste.

"Well sure."

Another silence.

Hand sliding off from Vaan's shoulder, Balthier places both on his own hips and leans in.

"What kind of bloody answer is that? 'Sure'? '_Sure'_?"

Vaan tilts his head to the side. "That's what I said."

"And therein lies our problem. You say '_yes_', not '_sure_', like you're agreeing. I'm rather surprised at you."

Vaan goes straight to the point – well, his point at least.

"What does this have to do with guns?"

Vaan finds the fault in this question as soon as it slips from his lips, for the firearm-passionate sky pirate drops his assertive façade altogether and stands there, a look of unbridled disappointment and vexation clearly stated on his features.

"…I'm heading back to Rabanastre,"

"W-wait!" Vaan stutters, and runs forward to keep up with Balthier's strides. The man doesn't even look his way as he continues to walk.

"Until you find out a few concepts on your own, I cannot teach you anything about firearms. Soul-searching is a necessity when it comes to matching a warrior with his weapon. Confidence, Vaan. Confidence."

Vaan stops in mid-step, incredulous. He watches with a quirkefd brow as the sky pirate continues towards the end of Throne Road.

_Confidence, eh?_ Vaan wonders, and he shifts his weight to the other hip while propping the rib on his shoulder. He observes Balthier walk and takes note of how _confidence_ must look in the eyes of an Archadian-gone-sky-pirate.

_Standing up tall, cocky grin, chin up. Is that it? Seems more like _arrogance_ to me._

Confidence comes in all shapes and sizes, and Vaan comes to this conclusion as he detects a Slaven nearing Balthier from one side of Throne Road.

_I may not walk and talk like an aristocr…—whatever, but that doesn't mean I'm not confident._ Vaan smirks, finding a good ground beneath his feet before he lifts the barrel up and stares through the sight at the Slaven.

_Shoulders back, bend your knees slightly... steady…steady…_

Balthier notices the Slaven as well, about fifty yards from Vaan, and readies his crossbow.

Before it is even loaded, a crack is heard through the opening road to Giza and Balthier freezes in place, a quizzical expression on his usually collected features as the Slaven stumbles and gives way beneath its weight, crumbling to the ground with a gurgled sigh.

It takes a while for Balthier to register what occured, but a moment passes by before Balthier turns and sees a cheeky blonde staring right back at him. Even in the blazing heat and pounding sun, Balthier can still detect the beaming grin on Vaan's features as he stands in place, one foot crossed behind the other and propped up on the toe while the rib lies on his shoulder again.

"How's _that_ for confidence?" the blonde yells before breaking his little winning pose altogether and going into a sprint. Balthier takes a precautious step back as Vaan nears him, barely able to hear the mutter of, "race you to the Bazaar" before he, too, turns on his heels and runs after the boy.

_A lesson well learned, I'd say…_ Balthier ponders, and he grins slightly as he runs alongside Vaan.

"Loser buys drinks," Balthier wagers through his breaths, and Vaan turns to him while sprinting and laughs, eyes sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun.

"Get your gil ready, then."

And with that Balthier finds himself left in the dust of an optimistic street-urchin, a boy once left with nothing yet retaining confidence not even he, a born and bred Archadian of the highest class, ever had at that age.

Profound respect comes in the weirdest ways, and the sky pirate grabs that moment in time and tucks it away in his own treasure chest of the heart.

* * *

**_A/N: I'd be so screwed without my Canadian._**


End file.
